Explore "Nell Latore" by Gilbert Parker on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Rebel? . I grant you, -- my comrades then / Were called Old Pascal Dubois' Men / Half-breeds all of us. I, a scamp, / The best long-shot in the Touchwood Camp; / Muscle and nerve like strings of steel, / Sound in the game of bit and heel -- / There's your guide-book. But, Jeanne Amray, / Telegraph-clerk at Sturgeon Bay, / French and thoroughbred, proud and sweet, / Sunshine down to her glancing feet, / Sang one song 'neath the northern moon / That changed God's world to a tropic noon; / And Love burned up on its golden floor / Years of passion for Nell Latore -- / Nell Latore with her tawny hair, / Glowing eyes and her reckless air; / Lithe as an alder, straight and tall -- / Pride and sorrow of Rise-and-Fall!
Indian blood in her veins ran wild, / And a Saxon father called her child; / Women feared her, and men soon found / When they trod on forbidden ground.